Slipping Away from You
by Lmuffins
Summary: In the middle of the French and Indian war, Arthur begins to realize that Alfred is growing apart from him.


Alfred wouldn't talk to him. He wouldn't even look at him. Arthur couldn't understand it. The boy was finally living out his wildest dreams, and yet, somehow, there had arisen a tension between them.

Arthur watched him now, reminding himself that he did not have time for this temper tantrum, but not wanting to walk away and leave things as they were.

It was growing cold by the water's edge as the sky darkened around them. Alfred stood by the lake glaring out over its still flat surface. Every so often he would seize a stone from the shore by his feet and, with a shout, fling it out inhumanly far across the lake. He would watch it skip until sunk, and he would grow quiet and still by the time a glassy calm returned to the water's surface.

He was wearing a military coat- red like Arthur's, but with a change here or there to show he was a provincial. It was ill-fitting, and highlighted the awkward cut of his adolescent figure. He had grown quickly; faster than any nation Arthur had ever met. He was tall now, taller than Arthur, and still growing if the size of his feet was any indication. They were too large for his body, like the paws of a puppy that would one day be a massive hound.

Everything about him was like that; unfinished. Alfred had gained a great deal of height but he hadn't filled into it yet. His shoulders were too thin, giving him a scrawny appearance, and causing his coat to hang on him strangely. His face suffered from much the same problem- the nose had grown before the rest of it and gave his otherwise still babyish face a lopsided quality.

"Alfred, we need to talk." There was no response, only another grunt as a stone was lost to the bottom of the lake.

"Alfred! As your commanding officer, I demand that you speak to me!"

"What?" The word was all venom. It fell from his tongue like something distasteful. He turned to face Arthur with a fury in his eyes.

Arthur cast a quick glance over his shoulder, concerned that someone might be looking for them. His close relationship with a young provincial soldier was causing enough confusion as it was.

"I want to know what your problem is," Arthur said coming closer to the boy. Alfred switched his glare from his mentor to the ground, but said nothing. Arthur sighed, "Are you upset that I'm leaving tomorrow? You know, I much preferred it when you cried."

"That's not it," Alfred said through his teeth.

"You know I have other fronts to take care of," Arthur went on, ignoring Alfred's objection, "I am fighting France all over the globe. This is only one aspect of a much larger war. I can't simply stay here playing favorites. There is a large and valuable empire at stake and-"

"I told you that's not it!" Alfred shouted with an anger Arthur had not known he had the capacity to possess. "I don't give a damn if you go. I don't care if you win or lose. I don't care! That's not why I'm mad!"

"What is it then?" Arthur responded curtly.

Alfred was quiet, his brow furrowed. Words were not his strong suit, and Arthur knew from experience that he was taking his time to formulate precisely what it was he meant to say into the right words.

"You don't respect me," he said finally, "and you don't respect my people."

"Respect you?" Arthur repeated, genuinely surprised, "In what way?"

"As a man," Alfred said. He looked away as he spoke and his cheeks grew red. He seemed to realize the weakness in his stance, and he met Arthur's eyes before continuing. "I'm grown up now, and I'm a valuable part of the empire. I'm proud to be part of it too, and so are my people. So it just really bothers me when your soldiers treat mine like… well, like bumpkins or something. They've had tons of good ideas and they've just been ignored."

"Alfred…" Arthur said quietly, "No one looks down on you and your people. But my soldiers are the best in the world. You can't blame them for growing impatient with ill-trained provincial militiamen. They simply haven't got the training."

"But it's our land! We know it; we know how to fight on it" Alfred insisted; he was growing excited.

"War is a gentleman's game, and all your people ever suggest is cowardice."

"France hasn't been fighting a 'Gentleman's Game'. He's letting his Indian Allies do all the sniping and ambushing they want."

"Are you suggesting I sink to the Frog's level?"

"At least then we might actually win!" Alfred shouted. Arthur grew livid, and without thinking he struck Alfred flat across the face.

It was difficult to tell who was more surprised. They stared at one another, Alfred with his fingers to his cheek and Arthur with the offending hand still held midair. He had never struck Alfred before, and the horrified and heartbroken expression in his eyes made Arthur's heart lurch. There was a moment in which he nearly gave way to his every paternal instinct.

But Alfred was getting too old to be coddled. In fact, Arthur was concerned that he'd let things go on for too long as it was. A colony did not command respect from the mothercountry no matter what the situation. Besides if they boy wanted to be a man so badly than so be it.

"Stop pouting, Alfred, your in Uniform," Arthur said curtly.

"What?" Alfred asked, his voice strained in an attempt to hold back tears.

"A man doesn't cry over a light blow to the cheek. I thought you wanted to be treated like a man, or was that just talk?"

The boy's frown went from trembling to stern in a moment. He straightened his shoulders, causing his coat to slide awkwardly off one side.

"Fine," he said, his voice clipped, "I didn't want to talk with you anyway! You're the on who bothered me."

Alfred reached again towards his over large feet. Grasping a water-smoothed stone in his hands, he flung it into the water with a grunt. It plunked unceremoniously into the water.

"There's work to be done at camp," Arthur said shortly, "Now go."

Alfred turned slowly, glaring at Arthur as he went. He shrugged his shoulders threateningly as he passed by, and his coat fell from his other shoulder.

Arthur watched his retreating back. The gangly limbs and tall height were not those of the doting child he'd found less than two centuries ago, and, Arthur worried, the heart might not be either.

OoO

Arthur lay back on the ground of his tent, letting out an audible sigh. The day had been taxing, emotionally more than physically, but still. He had seen only glimpses of Alfred since their discussion. He generally tried to avoid him in camp; he didn't like to break rank. Yet he couldn't help but wonder if he'd done the right thing earlier.

He'd always had a soft spot for Alfred, and he'd let him run free and do as he pleased. There was a certain enjoyment in spoiling him. But seeing him now, so big and strong and almost completely unbridled- it was almost frightening. His own childhood had lasted thousands of years; he hadn't expected this so soon.

This growth disturbed Arthur. It was causing their relationship to change entirely too fast. He wondered if Alfred was aware of it, aware that so much change so fast was going to force Arthur's hand. He couldn't let the boy run wild anymore, he was too old for it.

There was rustling outside and Arthur tensed. He really didn't want to speak with any of the officers right now.

"Arthur?" the voice was shaky, "Can I come in?"

"May I, "Arthur corrected automatically, " And no you may not. It's against regulation."

He came in anyway, one large hand pulling aside the flap. He crawled in, shrugged off his coat, and snuggled up to Arthur.

"I wanna sleep with you."

"Alfred, we can't, not here," Arthur began, bewildered by the sudden change in behavior, "And you're really much too old for this now"

"No, I'm not," the boy insisted. His eyes were large and frightened.

"Did some soldier tell you a ghost story?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow and sitting up.

"Can't I just want to be with you?" He sat up too. The honest distress on his face sent a thrill of concern through Arthur.

"Alfred, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," the boy whispered. He curled his legs up and hugged them tight to his body. He glanced at the ground before saying, "Can I have a hug?"

Alfred's eyes were astonishingly wide and almost pleading. He really looked desperate. Arthur bit his lip, thinking for just a moment. He really oughtn't coddle the boy anymore. But it was only a second of indecision before he could not hold himself back any longer. He adjusted himself so that he was up on his knees and taller than Alfred, and then wrapped his arms around his skinny shoulders.

"Tell me what's bothering you, Lad," he murmured gently.

"I…" Alfred's voice shook, "I'm too big.

"How do you mean?" Arthur pressed quietly, running his hands through Alfred's golden locks.

"I shouldn't be this big. There's something wrong with me."

Arthur sat back on his heels and took the boy's face in his hands, "There's nothing wrong with you."

"Yes there is!" Alfred snapped, "I'm some sort of freak."

"What put that in your head?" Arthur questioned, remaining calm in the face of anger.

"Whose older? Me or Matthew?"

"What brought that on?" Arthur asked honestly taken aback.

"He was at the last battle. I saw him with France."

"He'll be with us soon enough…"

"That's not the point! Which of us is older?"

"Him, I believe. By a few years. But it's difficult to tell with our kind."

"That's what I thought." Alfred said gloomily.

"Why do you ask?"

Alfred dropped his eyes and folded in on himself again, burying his face in the crook of his arm. There was a muffled sob.

"Alfred!" Arthur said in surprise. He placed an urgent hand on his arm. "Dear boy, what's bothering you?"

"He still looks like a kid," Alfred wailed. "There's something wrong with me. We're not supposed to grow this fast!"

"Oh, Alfred…" Arthur said with wary love. He rubbed comforting circles on the boy's arm. "We're not consistent, our kind never has been. I'll admit you've grown faster than any nation or colony I've ever known, but that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you. It'll all even out in the long run, I promise."

Alfred raised his eyes to meet Arthur's, and his lip trembled. "I don't want to be big."

"Nonsense!" Arthur chided lovingly. "It's all you've ever talked about since you were a babe. You've always dreamt of being big and strong."

"It's not what I wanted. It's too much. I wanted to be strong but…" He glared at himself. "I'm just awkward! It's like everything's spinning out of my control. Everything's changing and there's nothing I can do about it. Everything's… Everything is… Everything…"

He stopped and looked at Arthur meaningfully, as though hoping his eyes could convey what words could not. It was enough. Arthur knew what he meant. What was happening between them was unstoppable. The boy was growing up, change was coming, and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it.

Arthur closed his eyes and swallowed, ordering himself to retain his composure. His eyes opened in sudden surprise as he felt Alfred lay his head in his lap.

"Alfred… you really shouldn't-"

"Please? I wanna be a kid again. Let me be a kid again. Just for tonight?"

Arthur's eyes softened and he stroked the boy's hair gently.

"Tonight, then." He said. Alfred sat up and smiled at him, almost shyly. He waited until Arthur had settled himself beneath the blankets before snuggling up contentedly besides him.

He was sleeping soon enough, his gentle breaths becoming comfortingly even. But Arthur could not join him in his restful slumber. He could only hold the boy as tightly as possible and try to fight the horrifying feeling that he was slipping away.


End file.
